


Food For Thought

by HQ_Wingster



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Feelings Realization, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen, Good Taste, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: Good food often has a story.





	Food For Thought

_Sweet._ The flavor slid over Viktor’s tongue, coating the little bumps and grooves with a dainty touch. The milk oozing from the hefty cake-slice coated the back of Viktor’s throat with a fluffy texture. As fluffy as milk can be when chilled, man-handled, and dripped when Viktor dug his fork for another bite.

It was a standard _Tres Leche Cake,_ but it felt like a new experience to Viktor. Every bite spilled from his lips. Squishy crumbs, dribbles of milk that slipped from the corners of his mouth, and it had to be said: _Viktor didn’t bother wiping his mouth because he used his tongue instead, re-tasting the flavors that made his mouth water again._

It was all good and Viktor was just starting on dessert. There was a five-course meal waiting for him. Juicy slabs of pork drizzled in its own, savory sauce was lavished with some vegetables that were kind of plain. However, the snappy sound that ripped into the air when Viktor crunched his teeth down on a green was a perfect contrast to the slurp from his spoon when he tasted the dish’s salty sauce.

There was a _bittersweet_ tinge in the air while Viktor ate. He forgot the other courses and focused on one. Not the lavishly done pork, not the crunchy vegetables, not the citrus in his salad, or the hearty _“stick-to-your-ribs”_ soup that Viktor slow-boiled for the past 36 hours. None of that really mattered when Yuuri emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of katsudon.

The dish sat in front of Viktor while Yuuri stood behind. Hands behind his back, bandaged because he burned, sliced, and tore the little bits of himself while crafting a homemade dish. He wasn’t a seasoned-cook like Viktor, but Yuuri wanted to share a little piece of his world. A little piece because for the first in years, Yuuri finally decided that he wanted to do more in the kitchen that just watch from the sidelines while Viktor built extravagance up from its ingredients. 

So here he was, standing before Viktor like a contestant while his husband took a sliver of noodle and pork, dangled the bits around his fork, and ate. A salty crust along the pork cutlets and the crunch of the fried-coating was an abrupt change from the fanciful dining experience Viktor started with. It felt homey, warm, and Viktor ran his tongue over the wayward slices that Yuuri did while he was cutting the meat.

The noodle that Viktor slurped up was limp and bit too doughy, not enough work done into it to keep it from clumping when it got inside Viktor’s mouth but he managed and swallowed the bite. He twirled another bite, eating slowly.

Yuuri made this for him. Yuuri made him katsudon.

With his own hands. With his own skills. With his own time.

Viktor placed his fork down after he finished eating and looked up to Yuuri, admiring the cinnamon lurking behind his husband’s eyes and _gosh...Yuuri looked so nervous._

_“Yuuri, the katusdon is perfect.”_

A little sigh escaped from Yuuri’s lips, and he was glad.


End file.
